


Breakfast in Monticello

by parsniffs, SailorChibiChibi



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Jamilton - Freeform, M/M, My First AO3 Post, Nonsense, probably the weirdest fanfiction you'll ever read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:35:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7092451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parsniffs/pseuds/parsniffs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibiChibi/pseuds/SailorChibiChibi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas Jefferson wakes up in the morning to discover he doesn't have any frozen hash browns left so he will have to make it from scratch. What he didn't expect was for Hamilton to appear. But not how you'd think he would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast in Monticello

Thomas was cooking. He loved food, but he hated cooking. The kitchen was hot, just like Hamilton's sweet dadbod, and Thomas wanted to avoid thinking about the annoying little sizzling steak of a politician at all costs. But Thomas was hungry and there were no more frozen hash browns left in the freezer, so he had to revert back to the pioneer’s way of making better food out of other food before better food had existed.  
“Why does Hamilton gotta be so hot, my dick becomes the eiffel tower,” groaned Thomas. His hash browns were burning but he didn’t care, they still weren’t as hot as him. When he flipped them over (do you even flip hash browns idk) it was Alexander’s face he saw.  
“Baby wtf are you doing on my hash browns!” he exclaimed at the sight of his smexiness.  
“Since when am I baby, but I am the hash brown,” Alexander Hashilton said to Thomas. “I just went to sleep in my bed and woke up as a hash brownie!”  
“My god, Hamilton! Why aren’t you a piece of ham?”  
“Oh, ha ha,” snarled the hash brown. “You’re just mad you aren’t this scrumptious of a breakfast item!”  
“Breakfast item or not, you’re still hot and scrumptious,” said Jefferson. The hash brown blinked back awkwardly and the kitchen was silent apart from the continuous sizzling of Hamilton on the stovetop.  
“Now how about we solve this you golden little hash brown,” Thomas says thinking of how much hotter the room will get when he is back to normal. “It has to be in my book of curses.”  
Thomas runs into the living room to look for the mysterious book.  
“Don’t leave me on the stove dumbass!” yells an angry hash brown.  
“Shh, I’m trying to focus,” Thomas called back, leafing through the pages in his book. There were a lot of dumb spells in there, but why no hash brown reversal spells? That would honestly be more useful than, what was that one page? Pinecone juicing? Who wrote this book anyway? He checks the cover written by no other than Aaron Burr. Gee, thanks Burr. Useful as always.  
“Hurry up,” whines Hashilton. “I think I’m burning over here!”  
“Do you want to be a hash brown forever?” says an annoyed Thomas. “If not I suggest you shut the fuck up.”  
“I’d rather be a hash brown than an ash brown,” grumbled Hamilton indignantly. Thomas barely heard him over the flipping pages and also the deafening sound of him not caring.  
“But I’m bored!” the crispy Alex exclaims.  
“You’re a hash brown. You can’t move. There’s nothing for you to do,” snaps Thomas irritably.  
“Hash brown discrimination!” Alex shouts back.  
“Oh my god, so start a hash brown revolution, then!” yells Thomas, slamming his book closed in frustration. Why were there no food spells anywhere?!  
Slowly, Jefferson rose to his feet and replaced his book back into his pants, sighing. It was still only morning but he was already tired again. And he was still hungry. That hash brown was supposed to be his breakfast, but instead it turned out to be an overbearing politician. Just his luck. He knew he should have just had a poptart.  
“Okay, Hashilton,” said Thomas slowly, approaching the stove, only feeling a little satisfied when Alex bristled at the nickname. “How exactly did you say you became my breakfast, again?”  
“I was working on our project, that you said you were too good for when I fell asleep because I was too tired.”  
“Oh. I see. So, you just fell asleep and magically woke up again as a hash brown?”  
“Yeah.”  
Well, that didn’t help. What if Thomas fell asleep and he did wake up as a hash brown, but it was someone else’s? He has to risk it. He bit his lip, then looked down at Hamilton still sizzling away on the stove. The edges of the potato patty were getting black and crispy.  
“Oh, oops!” cried Thomas, turning the stove off.  
“Wow you just noticed, you’re a genius Thomas,” says Hashilton irritably. “It wasn’t like I told you or anything!”  
“Shut up,” snapped Jefferson. “I was brainstorming.”  
“More like brain farting.” says Hamilton just over a whisper. “So? What’s the conclusion, Mr. Smartsy?”  
“I don’t think I can change you back,” Thomas admitted. “But, I think I can become food like you.”  
“You’d really do that for me Jefferson?” Hamilton asks.  
Thomas blushed, but he blamed it on the fact that he was leaning over a still-radiating stove.  
“Well, you’re my food. So I’m in charge of you. I need to. Go into. Er. Potato form to watch over you.” Thomas stutters.  
“Right, okay,” Hamilton says a blushing mess of a potato patty. “Let me know if you make any progress.”  
“Hammy wammy pammy shammy lammy, I’m still surprised you didn’t reform as a ham. It’d fit you perfectly.”  
“Just as your outfit doesn’t,” Hamilton roasts Jefferson.  
“Hey, I am still perfectly capable of turning this oven back on,” snaps Thomas sorely.  
“Fine dad.” Hamilton says, defeated.  
Well, so Hashilton said he had become Hashilton because he fell asleep. But that makes no sense! Everyone falls asleep, but they don’t awake as food. Why Hamilton? And why this one time out of the other maybe three times he’s slept in his life? Maybe it’s the gods punishing him for forgetting to turn in his history assignment.  
Frustrated, Jefferson trudged out of the kitchen with Hashilton in hand and made his way towards his room.  
“Nice place,” sneered Alexander as soon as Thomas opened his bedroom door. It was a mess, with papers and clothes thrown everywhere.  
“Shut up.”  
Placing the hash brown down on his bedside table, Thomas rolled into his bed and stared up at the ceiling.  
“Is this your plan? To be emo forever?” asked Hamilton after a couple minutes.  
“If anyone is emo it’s you Mr. Play-MCR-everywhere.” Jefferson retorts.  
“They make quality music.” Hamilton lied to himself.  
“Yeah, okay. Right,” smirked Thomas as he rolled over onto his side, facing away from Hamilton. Suddenly he felt immense pain through his body as his muscles contracted and he began to shrink until there wasn’t a Thomas Jefferson lying in the bed anymore.  
“Oh! He’s disappeared! Lmao what a dick glad he’s gone haha,” said Hashilton.  
“Miss me?” says a hash brown that appears next to Hamilton.  
Only slightly shocked, Alex manages to keep his composure as he says, “Ah, damnit. I thought a miracle really happened today.”  
“Fuck you Hashilton, fuck you.”  
“Wait, so if I’m Hashilton, what are you now that you’re a hash brown? Thomas… Potaterson?” stammered Hamilton.  
“Ah, you suck, Hamilton. And I thought you were supposed to be good with words,” said Jefferson smugly. Hamilton screamed.  
“Why are we stuck with each other for eternity now?!”  
Alex yelled.  
“But you love me!” Jefferson gayly says.  
Hamilton blushes.“Wh-who told you that?!”  
Thomas smiles.  
They lived hashly ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on a whim. Reviews are appreciated.


End file.
